Jetko Drabbles
by chillininthefirenation
Summary: This ship pains me


He peered in distaste at the grey mist settling over the ocean. He wasn't exactly an optimist, considered hoping a dangerous habit, and certainly wasn't going to change that now. Even though everything else was. He glared at the cold cement slab of sea and it stared back at him. He squinted and rubbed at his eyes but still couldn't see through the fog, and though he would never admit to it, it terrified him. His life had always been a steady, absolute structure of sharp metal and strict rules and distant, icy faces. Now it was blurring at the edges. He'd never lived like this before. Never worn starchy Earth Kingdom brown, never relied on the generosity of strangers for his next meal, never fallen asleep listening to the steady hum of nature instead of the metallic whir of a ship.  
"Hey," greeted a voice behind him. Zuko turned around, the frown not leaving his face. It belonged to a boy with skin the color of dusty earth and an aura of easy confidence that practically dripped from the stalk of wheat resting between his lips. He'd seen this type before. A rogue, a ragtag idealist who was arrogant enough to think he and his sidekicks might actually make a difference.  
"Hello," he said, turning around, indifferent.  
"My name's Jet."

* * *

That's not my name, he thought as Jet breathed the wrong alias down his throat. He closed his eyes as they kissed, hands stretching over sturdy sun-browned shoulders and umber hair tickling his face. Jet moaned his name again, only it wasn't his name, it was the name of the grumpy tea-making refugee that Jet thought he was, and Zuko did his best not to flinch. He hadn't meant for this, never thought a raid by midnight with strangers or increasing visits to a rundown teashop could lead to someone finally getting under his skin. But it had, he'd let his guard down too long, let desire coax him to the boy in his arms, and the terrifying thing was, he didn't regret any of it.  
He thought of how Azula would smirk if she saw him in the cramped closet of a dingy teashop making out with an Earth Kingdom peasant who hated firebenders. Despised them. Including him, especially him, if he ever discovered his true identity. How many times he'd wanted to tell Jet the truth over those past few weeks, in one of his frequent flirtatious visits that had finally escalated to this moment. He wanted to, but he knew that'd turn the desire that burned in Jet's eyes to hate, that after Jets turned them in it'd only be a matter of days before Azula got her hands on them. That after Azula came his father, and the last time he'd seen his father-  
Jet's tongue traced the edge of his scar, and he shuddered.  
I'm a coward.  
He gripped the chapped shelf that held the tea, struggling for purchase on something while Jet's callused hand wandered down his stomach. It slipped into the fabric of his pants, fabric the color of a nation not his own, and Zuko gasped and dug his shaking fingers into the back of Jet's head. Jet's hand fell into a rhythm, and he swallowed Zuko's moan as their mouths crushed together again. Zuko panted into Jet's mouth as his hand moved faster. His own hand, hot and insistent, snaked his way down Jet's chest, his abdomen, his pelvis, and followed suit. Jet buried his head into Zuko's shoulder with a muffled groan.

* * *

He felt his rapid pulse thrum against the ruddy silver of Jet's sword.  
"You lied to me!" Jet's voice was raw and shaking. "You disgusting, murderous, lying firebender."  
"Jet," he whispered. "I-I-"  
"You're just the same as the rest of them!" Jet spat, pressing the hooked blade harder against his throat. "All this time."  
Zuko closed his eyes as his world crumbled around him.  
"All this fucking time!"  
I ruined it. I ruined everything. Now they would come for uncle. Now his maniacal sister would drag them away in chains. And Jet- the boy he'd clung to like a lifeline in the past months, as any hope of ever going home had dwindled out of existence, the boy he'd trusted, the boy he loved- he would be cheering them on.  
He gasped, sputtering for air as the sword strained against his windpipe.  
"You're fucking dead, firebender," hissed a voice that had once flirted and teased and bubbled with laughter, but was now thick with pain. He'd failed Jet. He'd failed Uncle. Like he always failed everyone. He knew he didn't have any excuse, he should have told Jet weeks ago. He never should have fallen for him in the first place. Hot moisture building up in his eyes, he choked out the only thing he could think of.  
"I'm sorry."


End file.
